


Conversations (The Secrets That I Keep)

by euhemeria



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [62]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Friendships, Family Legacies, Gen, Nebulously Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: Maybe she charmed people, once, but now there is a tilt to her jaw, around strangers, that invites a challenge.Yes,says Ingrid’s posture,My husband’s creations levelled cities.  Yes, they hurt you, but they hurt us too.  Yell if you like,her expression says,it won’t change a thing.It is a different sort of strength, that, and Ana respects Ingrid immensely for it.Or,Ana and Ingrid almost had something, once.





	Conversations (The Secrets That I Keep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ouhhoh](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ouhhoh).



> okay this is the first part in a three part arc thats literally 1) this in which i introduce ingrid as a char & her and anas dynamic pre-fall 2) they meet up again post-fall 3) they fuck, bc yes this is all just a justification for milf smut. its LIKE THAT. but no cheating im writing ingrid and torb in an open relationship... 
> 
> ANYWAY point being that either this is chapter one of three, or fic one of three, which i will decide... when i write part two
> 
> anyway, for meredith, a good friend whom i adore

That the Omnic Crisis changed people goes without saying, it changed the world, so naturally anyone who lived though it could not possibly be unaffected, but what is of more interest is the all the myriad ways in which it changed people, the thousand different responses to a single event.  One city is levelled, and everyone has a different story of the day, of where they were when it began, how they learned what was happening, what it is they did to survive—so when the entire planet is so affected?  Everything shifts, for everyone; some jump at shadows, others drink, still others pretend that nothing ever happened, that if they smile and say that things are the same, then they will be, no need to notice the smoke outside or the smell of ash in the air.  Some people change in the right ways, in ways that society likes, that are compatible with others, with their partners, see their lives and their marriages survive.

Some do not.

Ingrid is, of course, the former sort of person, is adaptable in all the right ways, always has been.  Her life may be different, post-Crisis, than it was before, might be made difficult by the fact that her husband is so polarizing a figure, equal parts responsible for the orchestration and ending of the Omnic Crisis, and she might have seen more than the average civilian, having had the poor luck to see both Stockholm, then her home city, and Karlstad, to which she then fled, levelled, but despite this, she is happy, or seems to be.  Despite this, she leads a normal civilian life, raising several children, baking cookies, hosting holiday dinners for her grown children, their spouses, and her grandchildren in the coming years.  Her marriage survived, and all her children, too, and she is happy, despite all that has happened, lives a life so normal that, so long as no one looks too closely, it almost seems as if she never survived a war at all, as if she still lives in the hazy dream that was _before_.

A sniper, Ana is trained to see everything.  Before she met Ingrid she thought she would be jealous, hated this woman whom she had only heard talk about, from Torbjörn, who cherished her letters and photos from home, who inevitably announced, a few weeks after every shore leave, that she was expecting—again!—and who spoke only of her best qualities, thought she ought to want to be this woman who seemed to have everything she lacked, but upon meeting Ingrid, Ana realized the truth very quickly, and now—now she thinks she rather likes the woman.

(Oh, she is still jealous sometimes.  Why would she not be?  Ingrid’s marriage worked, she adjusted easily back to the routine of post-war life, she can even _cook_ , has and is all things Ana thinks her own post-Crisis life should have been, and that stings.  Of course it stings.  Once, Ana dreamed of that life, of finally being able to settle into her marriage with Sam, of being able to raise Fareeha, and maybe another child or two, and make up for lost time, to experience being a wife and a mother—all without surrendering her career, of course.  But that was not her lot in life, and jealous as she can be of Ingrid, at times, she knows, too, that Ingrid’s life was not so easy as she makes it seem.)

To hear Torbjörn talk of her, one would think that Ingrid is still the same woman he married, sweet and gentle, and maybe she is, to _him_ , maybe she seems so, for a moment, but then Ingrid says something—does something—and anyone around her knows that she is not that woman, anymore.

The Ingrid that exists in Torbjörn’s stories, in his old photographs, in his memories—she is as dead as the woman Ana was, before all of this.  Knowing that, how could Ana allow herself to remain jealous?  How could she envy someone who is just as changed by things as she?  Before meeting her Ana thought, maybe, Ingrid had been one of the lucky ones, the women who changed in ways that society found acceptable, who wept, who clutched at their husbands, whose grief led them to organize church donations, or to make art, because Torbjörn said _everyone loves her,_ because he told everyone that Ingrid was always the light of a room, and she _can_ be, she can, but she is not always, and she dotes on her children, yes, but she can be sharp with them, too, in a way that was clearly born of a desire to protect, to prepare them for the world she thinks is cold, and cruel, and dangerous, and maybe she charmed people, once, but now there is a tilt to her jaw, around strangers, that invites a challenge.

 _Yes_ , says Ingrid’s posture, _My husband’s creations levelled cities.  Yes, they hurt you, but they hurt us too.  Yell if you like,_ her expression says, _it won’t change a thing._

It is a different sort of strength, that, and Ana respects Ingrid immensely for it.  For the most part, the PR nightmare which is Torbjörn’s past is swept under the rug, at Overwatch, as he is kept out of the spotlight, out of interviews and ceremonies, but Ingrid must confront it every day, back home in Gothenburg, is unable to escape the Lindholm legacy, must explain to her children why it is that other parents will not allow their children over to play, why their home is vandalized, why people sometimes cross the street when they see them, or hurl insults their way, must smile and bear all of this, because she cannot show how much it hurts her, if she wants her children to have any semblance of a normal childhood, cannot tell them until they are ready what it is they have been brought into, by birth or by adoption, when they were given the name _Lindholm._

Never does Torbjörn speak of such things.  Perhaps he is guilty, perhaps he is ashamed, perhaps it seems inconsequential, in the face of everything else those at Overwatch have suffered, and so much of it by his hands.  But, perhaps, he does not notice, perhaps Ingrid smiles for him like she does for the children, and he remains blissfully unaware, rarely emerging before the public, given his on-base accommodations.

(Or maybe that last scenario is what _Ana_ would do, in her situation, hide things, make nice, try to be what it is she thinks the people around her believe she ought to, at any cost to herself.  Maybe Ingrid just seems so much happier around Torbjörn because she _is_ , because they love one another, and there is nothing more to it.  It is hard, for Ana to believe that anyone could be so happy with their partner, after all the ways in which they have changed, and been made to, but it is unfair of her to assume such is not the case.)

Nevertheless, _Ana_ knows, because when Ingrid is on base, they seek each other out.

At first, Ana only does so out of spite, of jealousy, out of a childish desire to learn something awful about Ingrid, so that she might feel better about being so envious of her, her perfect relationship, her perfect life.  Of course, Ana is perfectly polite for the entirety of that first meeting, does not say a single untoward thing, not wanting to let on how she feels—after all, she knows, even then, that her feelings are not _fair_ , and has no intention of being cruel to a woman who has done nothing to her—but Ingrid, instead, is not, is perfectly honest with Ana in her assessment that a cybernetic eye is all well and good, but was outdone by Omnic innovation before Ana ever consented to the procedure and was, therefore, a waste of money by the Egyptian government.

Ana laughed, then, laughs still at the memory, because it is true.  The operation on her eye was useless, because no human, no matter the scope they have or the augmentations they possess, can match a machine’s perception. _It is a good thing, then,_ Ana told her, _That I don’t need it to do my job._

A sniper’s eye is important, yes, but their instincts more so, and Ana’s are telling her that Ingrid can be trusted, and that she is nothing at all like Torbjörn says.  In fact, she is far _better._ Few people would stand up to any of the so-called heroes of the Omnic Crisis, and fewer still would bring up such a thing unwarranted, find fault in something that, ultimately, has no bearing on the rest of the world’s affairs.

It is delightful.

They cannot speak for much longer, but Ana leaves that first meeting with a decidedly positive impression of Ingrid, a woman whom she was so ready to hate.

(Unfortunately, the jealousy lingers, unfair as it may be—or, maybe not jealousy, maybe pain.  A longing, stabbing feeling, and familiar, it is Ana wishing for another, gentler life, one where she had the freedom, at least, to realize that a life like Ingrid’s was not for her.)

Hours later, in the dark of her room, alone, Ana’s eyes fly open, one cybernetic and one not—Ingrid should not know about the operation.  Post-Crisis, people rarely discuss augmentation, and it is illegal for civilians in most countries, a great step backwards for those with disabilities, but one that, perhaps, makes a sort sense, given fears of the capability of AI, of the ability of one’s own body to be hacked.  Ana’s operation is a secret, would be bad publicity, were it to be known, and although her comrades know, some of them, it is only because they can see it, when she scopes, the way her iris lights and moves, honing in on her target.  Unless Torbjörn told her, Ingrid could not have known.

 _Torbjörn._ Ana is going to kill him.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, an extensive interrogation leads Gabriel to believe that Torbjörn is not sharing classified information with his wife.  Fortunate, because moles are dangerous things, and unfortunate, because that means Ingrid discovered the truth of Ana’s eye by some other means.

When asked about this, Torbjörn only laughs, asks them what they think it is Ingrid does for a living.  Evidently she, too, is an engineer, and although her specialty is decidedly focused on the environment, instead, she found herself drafted during the Omnic Crisis to assist in Sweden’s own weapons-grade prosthetics program, due to her association with the Ironclad Guild.

It is comforting, to know that their secrets are safe, and that her prosthetic was only discovered by an expert in the field, but it is more than that, is _intriguing._

Ana has to meet Ingrid again.  Who knows what else Torbjörn might have failed to mention?

So the next time Torbjörn mentions that Ingrid will be visiting, Ana extends her an invitation to tea.

It is refreshing, to be around someone so honest as she, particularly one who is not honest because they are _guileless_ , but because they do not care what anyone thinks of them.  That freedom is the sort of thing Ana dreams of, because in her position there are too many secrets she has to keep, for the safety of everyone, and too many of the things she thinks and feels are too inconvenient to their work, all-important, for her to express them.  But Ingrid is free to speak her mind, and speak she does.

Some of the things she says, Ana does not agree with, but that is all well and good because Ingrid does not care whether or not Ana agrees, and is perfectly content to let her speak her mind on the subject, too.  Some of the things she says, however, Ana wishes she could agree with, publicly, are things Ana has long thought but never been able to say, either because she is not allowed, or because she is not in a position to do so, socially, given so many factors—her race, her country of origin, her rank. 

Conversations with Ingrid are dangerous, make her think far too much about orders she is not allowed to second guess, about how Overwatch is seen outside of their bubble, about the competence of their team, people whose lives depend on her, and with whom she must trust with her own life. 

At least, as a sniper, Ana has learned to be silent, to be still, knows well when to hold her tongue, and even if Ingrid can tell that she is doing so, she does not remark upon it.

Rare tact.

(Perhaps that should not surprise her—Ingrid’s brutal honesty is, she suspects, a defense mechanism, one designed to protect herself from the criticisms of others, who would hate her solely for whom her husband is.  All her truths are as if to say _I know, already.  There is nothing you can tell me that I haven’t thought of,_ as if, maybe, knowing would make hearing the words hurt less.  There would be no benefit, then, to doing the same around Ana, who is in no position to criticize Torbjörn’s work, at least not in front of civilians, who will not criticize the decisions either of the Lindholms made to survive the Omnic Crisis.  After all, Ana made a number of decisions she regrets, too.  So what reason would Ingrid have, to press Ana?  Already, her silence says enough.)

Eventually, with enough listening, Ana begins to learn that Ingrid has fears, too, has regrets, ones she cannot voice to her children and does not always want to voice to her husband. 

She fears this: that no matter what they do, her children are damned by having the name Lindholm, that she was wrong to bestow it upon them, both those she gave birth two and those she adopted.  No matter where they go, no matter what they do, it will follow them, what their father did, will always be a part of their legacy, and they will suffer for it, both at the hands of others and themselves.  Ana does not disagree, familiar as she is with growing up inside a legacy but what can Ingrid do, now?  The children have names already.

She fears this: what people say about her husband is right, and by loving him she is complicit in his crimes.  Torbjörn never liked AI, Ana knows, and therefore his contributions to the Omnic Crisis were only ever indirect ones, but he _does_ have a knack for weapons, for building things with the sole purpose of destroying, and Ingrid has always known this, loves the man who architected so many deaths, both directly, in defense of humanity, and indirectly, because when the time came, his loyalty to the Ironclad Guild outweighed his common sense.

She fears this: that although she has done as much as she can to teach her children to make good decisions, and to be strong enough to fend for themselves, they will not be.  Violence is not the sort of thing one can plan for, not something she can chart like she has their growth, or schedule for, as she has balancing all of their activities.  While she can teach them to be independent—and that is what she values, independence above everything, because when the sirens heralded an oncoming attack, it was her own wits that saved her, and when the government had not the resources to provide for all its people, it was her own ingenuity that allowed her to keep her children fed, clothed, sheltered—can teach them essential skills, she cannot change the nature of the world they live in, senseless, brutal, ever-changing.

The last is a fear that Ana knows well, is one she shares about Fareeha’s future.  What will happen to her child?  Has she secured the world enough that she might live happy life, free from the specter of death, the guilt of having killed?  Has she truly shielded her daughter from any pain, by what she has wrought in Overwatch, or only caused more, by way of their separation?

Because Overwatch will not succeed in bringing peace to the world, Ana knows it then, even if it is a truth too terrible to ever give voice to.  By the time their conversations reach these fears, _truly_ reach them, and Ana finally feels comfortable enough to respond, to confide something of her own, Fareeha is twenty-two, and Overwatch has been presiding over a peaceful earth for fourteen years—to no great effect.  There are still coups, still unrest and uprisings, and Ana fears they will never end, that her watch will continue on until she dies. 

Once, she promised Fareeha that when everything was over, she would come home for good, and she would learn to build the ships in bottles Fareeha always found so fascinating.  Her daughter is nearly grown, now, and has taught herself.

When she tells Ingrid this, she expects sympathy, or something of the sort, expects that Ingrid , who has seen almost all of her children’s milestones, will know how important such is.

Instead, Ingrid seems to approve of this, congratulates Ana on raising an independent child, one who will teach herself things, if she needs to, and who knows how to make her own happiness.

It is the first sign, for Ana, that things are unravelling, that her expectations for her life, for herself, for the world she lives in, are gradually shifting out of touch from the expectations of those around her, that the place and the people she called home, when she decided that she was too changed by the Omnic Crisis to have a home with her family, anymore, are just as ill-suited to her, now, as the life of a housewife would have been.

(Perhaps things have been unravelling for a very long time, perhaps she never truly belonged here at all, always subsumed some part of herself in order to facilitate Jack’s needs, or Gabriel’s, but in that case, she never really belonged in the army, either, or in her home, because her whole life Ana has done what is best for those around her, and not necessarily what is best for herself.)

On some fundamental level, Ingrid disapproves of the sort of person Ana is—must, even if she is not yet aware of it herself.  After all, Ana is the sort of woman who does not want her child to be too independent, because she thinks that what saves people is not their actions alone, but their community, and who knows best, in a communal situation, than one’s parents?  Who best to guide one on one’s most suitable path, with all the benefits of the wisdom of having been young already?

Ingrid would hate her, if she knew that Ana is planning on rejecting Fareeha’s application to Overwatch, when it comes.  Ingrid would hate her, just as the people she serves with would hate her, if they knew of all the doubts she has about what Overwatch has done, in recent years, and the impact of her legacy.  Ingrid would hate her, just as the world is beginning to, as Overwatch is slowly pulled apart by forces both within and without.

So Ana does what she has always done, and does not tell Ingrid what it is she is planning to do, when Fareeha applies to serve alongside her, but instead gradually tapers their conversation off—first just the one, and then communication as a whole—in order to avoid the whole mess of disappointing her. 

Slowly, their friendship fades, and Ana moves out of Ingrid’s life entirely, and she thinks it is the best possible ending.  Fighting will solve nothing, will only leave whatever they almost had between the two of them on a sour note.

And Ana is growing so, so tired of fighting.

**Author's Note:**

> f
> 
> anyway lmk ur thoughts... hopefully u enjoyed indulging me in an exceedingly rare pair


End file.
